It's Snowing
by SnowyPrecipice
Summary: A typical Zosan fluff ficlet.  : Zoro/Sanji with mentions of the rest of the crew.


It's snowing early in the morning, and Sanji is the only one up, preparing breakfast before the rest of the crew wakes up. It's ridiculously cold out today, and the chef puts extra thought into making a warm, tasty meal that will get rid of the incessant chilliness. He shivers a little at the thought, drawing his jacket tighter over himself before continuing.

The door opens and Zoro walks in, muscles shining with perspiration and lips tinged blue from the cold. Sanji stares at him in incredulity, wondering if the swordsman was actually mad enough to do his usual training in the cold.

Zoro drops his dumbbell in a corner. Apparently he _is_ mad, Sanji sighs in resignation, wondering why he even bothered wondering in the first place.

He lowers the fire a bit; letting the stew simmer and the taste of the herbs he added spread throughout it. Zoro, meanwhile, takes out his swords and begins polishing them, one by one. Sanji loses himself in his cooking for a while, mind wandering to what the rest of the crew is doing.

The two girls are probably snug under their duvets, looking beautiful. Luffy is probably in some weird, unnatural position, snoring loud enough to wake the others had they not been used to it. Chopper is likely making some weird noises while dreaming; Usopp is probably talking in his sleep again, and Franky wiggling about on his bunk bed dreaming of some new dance routine. A disgruntled expression crosses Sanji's face and he snorts.

He notices Zoro again, watching how absorbed the other man is.

"You're crazy, freezing your ass out there." Sanji speaks up, breaking the silence.

"I train every day. Some dumb snow isn't going to stop me." Zoro shrugs. His lips have regained their colour.

Sanji doesn't reply, taking the kettle out to boil water for tea.

"So… why do you fight with three swords?" Sanji asks. The snow falling softly outside the porthole and the cold is giving him a strangely peaceful feeling. He and Zoro don't have to argue _all_ the time. Just enough to have fun and stop their nakama from thinking too much into their relationship.

Zoro stares at him, as though puzzled why it took so long for such a question to be asked.

"Just answer." Sanji says irritably. Trust that swordsman to spoil a peaceful conversation. But on the contrary –

"Because they're better than two." Zoro smirks, and Sanji can't think of a way to refute that.

"Fair enough." Sanji pours water into the kettle.

"You could use swords, too." Zoro nods his head at the knives on the counter.

Sanji snorts. "Knives and swords are completely different, marimo."

Zoro shrugs again, unperturbed, and unsheathes his second sword to polish. Sanji likes seeing him like that; his brows furrowed in concentration and eyes bright. He catches himself staring at Zoro and slaps himself mentally. _Cook, cook._

"Tell me about your swords." Sanji requests, a look of interest on his face. Zoro's head jerks up in surprise. "Really, cook?"

"Yes." Sanji rolls his eyes.

Zoro doesn't need another prompt and gives one of his rare smiles, launching into a description of his swords. He places his white-handled sword on the table first, "Wadou was given to me by Kuina's father, and…"

Sanji feels a tad guilty when he tunes Zoro's words out. He isn't the least interested in Zoro's swords, though he admits he does cool moves with them occasionally, but he gets some pleasure watching Zoro talk _this_ animatedly and this passionately. He really is a swordsman through and through.

"And Kitetsu is a cursed blade, but I can handle it now, it just needed a good scolding…" Zoro drones on, oblivious to the fact Sanji is only half-listening and nodding in all the wrong places.

When Zoro is done a while later, he notices Sanji has his back turned and is totally focused on the last minute touches to their breakfast.

"You weren't listening, were you, cook?" Zoro growls gently.

No reply.

"Cook?"

Zoro stares at the blonde's back.

"Asshole?"

"Oi." Sanji whirls around, a scowl on his face.

"I _said_, you weren't listening." Zoro repeats slowly.

"Huh? Of course I was." Sanji sputters. "Your… swords. And your Santoryuu. And… the cursed one…" He trails off, then abruptly turns his back on Zoro again.

"It's freakin' cold." Sanji says loudly, changing the subject.

Zoro isn't in the mood for a fight, and gets up.

"Yeah, it's cold all right." He says genially.

Sanji turns off the fire. "I should get jackets for the two ladies… and Luffy, since he'll forget. And maybe a thicker one for myself…" Sanji rambles on.

"You're an idiot." Zoro announces, reaching the cook, and he wraps his arms around him. Sanji makes an annoyed noise in his throat and tries to pry free, but Zoro doesn't let him. "I know how to _warm_ you up." He mutters in the general vicinity of Sanji's ear.

He thinks Sanji will probably accept, but he's proven wrong. An elbow jabs his stomach roughly and he doubles back in slight pain. Only slight, because the wimp of a cook can't do better than that.

Zoro grunts, defeated. With all the peaceful talking and the comfortable atmosphere between them, he thought that it may have softened the cook up a bit. He shuffles back to his chair, gathering up his swords.

"Marimo, go wake up the rest. Meal's ready." Sanji orders him, and Zoro has a sudden urge to fight him like he usually does. But he restrains himself, just in case he doesn't get breakfast, and heads for the galley door.

He reaches out for the doorknob when –

"And Zoro, after breakfast you can showmehowtogetwarm." Sanji says in one breath, flashes him a red-faced smirk and turns his head away.

Zoro grins before leaving. He hopes it snows more often.

* * *

_A typical fluffy Zosan story. (; I wrote this a while back. It's a tad nonsensical as usual, and very short. Comments always appreciated. ^^_


End file.
